Smothered Shadows
by Mini Peacelet
Summary: AU. Rita and Connie as I have never written them before. Based upon a dream I had. Rita is a care kid and believes she is an orphan. Connie is head social worker at the care home.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** The entirity of this fic will be based upon an odd dream I had earlier in the week. I'm not really going to give the plot away but you will probably find it quite strange haha! It will mainly be based around Connie and Rita but not as I have ever written them before. Basically, Rita is a care kid and believes she is an orphan, and Connie is the head social worker in the care home. This fic will likely to be an insight into my crazy imagination! _

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Smothered Shadows - Part 1

"Is it safe to come in?" The brunette peered guardedly around the edge of the door she had opened ajar. Deciphering that there were no objects being haphazardly tossed through the air, aimed at herself, she hesitantly entered and perched on the foot of the bed.

Rita was calm now. Her fiery temper had passed. "I understand that you are angry. The rules aren't just to infuriate you and the other residents; they are to ensure that you remain safe as well as educate you about responsibility and repercussions of negative behaviour."

The adolescent twitched her shoulders in the approximation of a shrug. She appeared to have lost interest in the party. Her thoughts were currently elsewhere. The accumulated rage that had fuelled her demeanour previously had faded. Replaced with tranquility and perhaps hints of forlorn misery.

"What were the names of my biological parents?" A feeble whisper broke the tension that hovered densely in the ambience as the older woman had patiently waited a reply. The girl tilted her head, diverting her sparkling eyes to lock with her guardians.

It was a question that Connie hadn't anticipated. Hands clasped together, she roughly ran her tongue over her lips and tentatively assembled a response. "Rita, they are dead. You know that. That information is irrelevant." Her austere, icy manner had been dropped; adopting a gentler level.

The leading social worker had never known Rita to be so calm and lethargic. It was extremely abnormal. Only a couple of hours ago had their latest dispute occurred downstairs. Although, she was vigilant that her mood could twist in a heartbeat.

 _'"For the last time, Rita! You are not going out to that party." The piercing roar of Connie's exasperated voice reverberated the entire hallway. The altercation between herself and her most challenging adolescent escalating._

 _"I always sincerely mean what I say. Every single child here is grounded following that food fight last night. And that includes you." With a pointed finger and solemn manner, the older female's lecture persisted._

 _The petite blonde shuffled, mentally considering prospects for an escape, "This is ridiculous!" An angry huff, "I wasn't even involved in that stupid food fight so why am I being punished?!"_

 _"You were present." The care worker stated matter-of-factly, "Rules are rules, and if they are not obeyed then there will be consequences. Now, haven't you got some homework to complete? If not, them your room needs tidying." She pirouetted sharply in her trademark heels and strutted in direction of the living room._

 _"I hate this place!" Her fingers curled into tight fists as Rita ascended the generous stairway, feet stomping with attitude as she stormed into her room. The door slammed with a violent bang._

 _The teenager stalked bitterly across her room, hurling herself into the window seat. Dark orbs fixated on the thousands of delicate raindrops fluttering from the ominous clouds, rolling leisurely down the glass pane, her mind drifted to pressing thoughts. Her thoughts were often an intense jumble.'_

"I know, but I still want to know." The teen persisted stubbornly, tone gradually strengthening, "I want to trace my biological family. Do I have brothers or sisters? Grandparents? Aunts, uncles and cousins?" She elaborated her justifications with clarity.

Lips pursed together, the social worker had certainly been captured unprepared for such a topic. "We cannot impart that material with you, it's confidential. You are not warranted to know until you leave this place as we have a duty of care and it is our job to protect you."

Rita scoffed turbulently, "That's a load of rubbish! Robyn and Max know who their parents are and are in contact with their mum!" With a bitter hiss, she huffed irritably. Her mood was rapidly adjusting, _again_.

"It's different!" Connie retorted briskly. The Rita Freeman she knew was swiftly returning.

"How?!"

"It just is and that is all _you_ need to know. I am not going to give you the answer to that question so you may as well drop it." The cutting, authority in her tone wisely informed the girl that her prodding efforts would be pointless.

"Fine." Rita appeared to accept that answer with a muted sigh, "How did my parents die?" Her voice had lowered significantly, wavering with vulnerability. It was a sensitive subject. But it had been a question on her mind for ages.

The brunette treaded delicately; sympathetically. She briefly narrated a concise explanation that seemed to satisfy the fourteen year old who remained quiet and solitary. "Are you coming down for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry." She murmured and with that the adult departed. Her perplexity regarding the identity of her real parents remained present, not completely appreciating why it was such a great secret. The detail that they didn't want her to know just stimulated her ambition to find out. And she was determined she was going to, already thinking of a plan. If she couldn't attend the party then that didn't mean she would stay out of trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Thank you to those who read and reviewed! Here's the next instalment, hope you enjoy it. xx_

 _~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Smothered Shadows - Part 2

It was dark. Velvety, midnight shadows of darkness had immersed the twisting streets and caverns of the Holby suburbs. The monotonous ticking of the clock reverberated the tranquil ambience, accompanied by the muted creaking of doors and shuffling feet. Connie was currently completing her night time checks. Soon to recoil to the haven of her own chamber.

Theoretically, Rita was supposed to be asleep. But she wasn't; not really. She was pretending to be immersed in a deep slumber, rich orbs scrunched shut and the fluffy duvet tucked up to her chin amply. Her left eye tentatively flickered open as the muffled motion of the social worker's movements faded, glimpsing for any signal of light glowing through the tiny gap at the foot of her door.

Gracefully extending her arm, she tapped her phone and allowed the luminescent screen to radiance while she squinted at the time. Connie would definitely have departed to her own room by now. She had this regular routine calculated to the second, it was precisely identical every night. Repetitive.

The blonde pushed herself up with her elbows and swung her legs out of bed, planting her feet into her tatty eeyore slipper and regained her equilibrium. She tugged her cozy dressing gown on and skulked towards the door. Peering round the edge of the door, she vigilantly emerged into the hallway and tiptoed in the direction of the staircase.

If Connie wouldn't acquaint her with the names of her biological parents then she would just find out herself. Her personal surname wasn't any indication of a blood related family name - when she was adopted as a baby she had embraced her foster family's name.

Sneaking down the stairs, she encountered every step steadily to ensure she remained as quiet as possible. These old stairs had a habit to creak horrendously. Rita made it downstairs and proceeded to navigate her way to Connie's office when she halted abruptly.

She could perceive activity. As a spontaneous reaction she dived into the pitch black cloakroom where she intended to wait patiently until the human had disappeared. The front door clicked close, key clanking in the lock, and then the footsteps grew louder. Closer. Although they didn't switch any lights on. Her breath accumulated in the back of her throat when she captured the subtle glow of a phone's lit screen in the passage.

The person had entered the room designated for coats and shoes. Rita had deciphered that there was actually two of them. Right at that moment, the human collided straight into her and exhaled a high-pitched squeal. In correspondence, she screamed in pure terror.

"Max! Shut up you great big idiot! What are you doing?" The teenager hissed after analysing the male to be Robyn's younger brother as she captured site of his face in the dull light. His company was some girl she didn't recognise. Presumably his latest date.

"Well I could ask you the same thing!"

"I was thirsty, so I am going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. What abou-" she was interrupted before able to complete her response by his interference.

The boy narrowed his gaze suspiciously, tossing the girl's jacket onto the multiplying pile, "What are you doing in _here_ if you're getting a drink then?!"

"Keep your voice down!" Rita instructed with a mutter as she wandered out from among the array of coats and jackets, "I heard somebody shutting the door and footsteps. I thought somebody was breaking in so I hid!" Her explanation was concise yet accurate and satisfied Max.

"So come on, what are _you_ doing up? Sneaking back in from where?" She pressed her index finger against his chest and forced him backwards into the hall. Her voice was solemn and blunt, "Spill or I'll tell Beauchamp." Arms folded across her chest sternly.

"Okay, okay!" Hands held up in defeat, "I haven't been anywhere, I was just letting Zo in!" The adolescent gestured to his girlfriend.

The blonde's eyebrow puckered into an arch, "Girls aren't allowed in boys rooms. Vice versa."

"Oh come on, Reets. Don't tell Beauchamp, please. Being grounded means I haven't been able to see Zoe! What do you want in reward for you to stay quiet?" A compromise - blackmail - was the only escape he could see from this conversation without landing himself in even more trouble.

"Tickets to that new movie in town?"

Max grunted and reluctantly nodded, "Deal."

Rita smirked contently, "Night night." She murmured and padded into the kitchen to act like she was genuinely getting herself a glass of water whilst Max and Zoe headed upstairs.

Convinced that the coast was clear and nobody else was loitering in the dark shadows, the teen tiptoed towards the office. Within seconds she located the key that the head social worker kept hidden in a plant pot for emergencies, and soon gained access subsequently to inserting the key into the lock.

She then snatched her phone from her pocket and clicked the built-in torch on, grasping a paperclip from the desk she set about picking the padlock that secured the filing cabinet where the important information she desired was concealed. Unlocking the padlock to grant access to the cabinet's access was relatively effortless and she brushed through the brown records until discovering her own.

Nothing could have prepared Rita for the details she learnt regarding her birth parents. The colour rapidly drained from her face. Perky complexion replaced with a haunting, ghost white. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her weight, propping herself against the wall so she didn't tumble with a thud.

Her emotions whirled in a jumble; a deadly concoction of feelings. Potent anger. Acrimony sadness. Numb. They were most dominant. But there were also hints of disappointment too. Hot, salty tears burned down her cheeks. Hands masked the muffled sobs. Rita didn't know what to do with herself.

The tiny blonde dumped her file back into it's original slot and refastened the lock. She obscured her tracks as she left, leaving no evidence of her presence as she dropped the key back into the plant leaves. There was absolutely no way she was returning to bed. She wouldn't be able to sleep even if she did.

So, she exchanged her dressing gown for a jacket and slippers for trainers before unbolting the front door and departing. It was chilly outside and her skimpy clothes weren't appropriate for maintaining any warmth. But she didn't care. She accelerated into a run and darted into the crepuscule.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Again, thank you so much for the reviews. I'm procrastinating revision and this finished update is the result. I apologise for the rubbish dialogue in this - it really isn't my strong point. I hope you like this next part and I'd love to know what you think! xx_

 _~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Smothered Shadows - Part 3

The painted door hurled open with erratic effort. Within moments the acute clicking of designer heels stalking promptly reverberated the muted hall, generating an anxious ambience. Breaths were sharply inhaled and adhered at the shear force of the piercing beat of the stilettos colliding with the tacky linoleum. Connie was vastly furious.

The anticipated anger could be tasted, laying thick in the air. Bitterly flavouring lips. Yet the person impending the receiving end of the accumulating rage was totally absentminded. She had just stumbled into the large house she called home, faltering in several directions with zero coordination. Intoxicated giggles combined with bleary vision.

"Rita Freeman!" Her tone was a cutting, hostile hiss as she propped then adolescent against the wall before she tumbled and inflicted more injuries upon herself as she staggered over her own feet, "Are you drunk?!" It was more of a statement than an inquiry; perhaps an absurd question. She knew the answer. It was blatantly obvious.

"Nooooo!" A high-pitched, girly laugh followed, "Maybe just a little, teeny bit tipsy!" She floundered again as she attempted to gesture to a small amount with her fingers, "What's it to you, anyways? You're just a stupid, old cow. Like you'd care." Her words were evidently slurred to the extent of being scarcely fathomable as she giggled uncontrollably.

Invisible steam gushed from Connie's ears, a dark shade of crimson starting to flush her complexion, "Get upstairs and to your room right this instance! _NOW_! You are absolutely wasted! I'll deal with your punishment when you are sober!"

The girl didn't move, failing to process anything her guardian had instructed. "Rita, I mean it! Shift!" Her voice was roaring turbulently and the blonde tottered forward and wobbled straight past the stairs until Max gently tugged her arm and corrected her direction.

"The shows over everybody! Get back to breakfast and getting ready for school!" The social worker bellowed, her already foul mood deteriorating as she learnt that she had attained an audience who had witnessed the entire scene.

* * *

Subsequently to the remaining residents disembarking off to school for the day and completing some tidying and paperwork, Connie ascended the stairs equipped with a glass of fresh water and some paracetamol. The teenager had had a couple of hours to sleep away some of the effects of the excessive alcohol - and to the brunette, that was more than adequate, she deserved to suffer the consequences of getting wasted, in her opinion.

She tapped on the door momentarily before entering and pacing towards the window where she pulled back the curtains and abruptly and allowed the natural light to surge in. Rita grunted and groaned in dismay as she rolled over snd submerged her face into the pillow, muttering, "go away,"

"No." The head social worker refuse bluntly as she deposited the glass of water and appropriate dosage of pain relief on the bedside unit, "I'm not going to disappear and leave you to sleep off aftermath of your ridiculous drinking session."

The girl twisted and propped herself up on her elbows with an ominous scowl, eyes squinting at the dazzling light, "I don't want you to go away so I can sleep, I want _you_ to go away because I didn't want to talk to _you_." She clarified harshly.

With folded arms, the older woman shrugged, "Sometimes we don't always get what we want."

"Can you just leave me alone?" Rita grumbled frustratedly as she flung herself back against the soft mattress, head striking the pillow, "Please?" An addition of politeness, rarely civil.

She shook her head sternly, "No. We need to talk, and that isn't an option. Your grounded spell has been extended considerably and you can complete extra chores as well, we wouldn't want you to get bored. Now, this isn't the first time you've returned utterly smashed but I won't waste my breath on another lecture as it is evident that you don't listen. But I do have a slightly more pressing and quite - well, very - serious issue to discuss with you."

The adolescent rolled her orbs dramatically, vaguely paying any attention. She figured Connie was about to preach about some subject or other.

"I got a phone call this morning. Late last night there was a theft at the local convenience store. A couple of youths stole several bottles of alcohol. One of them was a short, petite girl with short, pixie-like, blonde hair. I wonder who that could have been hmm?" The female narrowed her dark gaze, scrutinising.

"It wasn't me."

Connie acknowledged the rather curt and short denial, "Really? Because they proceeded to email me the CCTV footage and I clearly managed to identify you as that description. Now I should be calling the shop owner back and confirming that it is you, so they can inform the police. You know, follow the protocol."

The blonde shot up, sitting bolt upright as her rich orbs expanded significantly, "You can't! You know what profession I want to work in, that would ruin everything!" She exclaimed, suddenly displaying an interest.

"Oh I am sure that they will dismiss the juvenile and reckless action of a brainless teen." Her shoulders jerked in the approximation of a shrug, voice lacking any care or sympathy.

"They wouldn't." A grumpy scoff, "And you know that!"

The social worker perched on the edge of the desk, "Well, I suggest you start talking then."her manner remained annoyingly candid, orbs glaring.

She parted her lips, indicating that she was going to speak. But it was soon replaced with a huff as she flopped back down forlornly. Perhaps she had gotten wise, she didn't know. "What's the point? You will still do whatever you want. That's what bitches like you lot do, and you're a dishonest one at that. You pretend to care when really you don't give a toss!"

"Excuse me?" A scoff came in pure repulsion, impatient of an elaboration.

"It's true though, isn't it? You don't _really_ care." The blonde had regained her equilibrium, tone gaining in strength by the second as she waved a pointed finger in the adult's direction, "I know."

"Rita, this is ludicrous." Connie leapt to her feet, her power and authority instantly glowing as her hands graced her hips elegantly, "What do you know?" She was borderline laughing; a humourless snort.

"I know who my _real_ parents are." The words were flat and sincere, emotion absent.

" _How_?" She was thinking aloud accompanied with theoretical accusations, "Did you break into my office? That is way out of order. How dare you. My office is out of bounds to any child for confidential reasons. All information in there is highly private!"


	4. Chapter 4

Smothered Shadows - Part 4

"Does it _really_ matter how I know? The relevant information right here is that I _know_." The tiny blonde folded her arms exasperatedly, dark orbs enhanced with a bitterly ominous glow, "I know that I am currently looking at the woman who is my so called mother." The words dripped from her gritted teeth.

Connie scoffed adversely, eyes rolling dramatically, "Don't be ridiculous, Rita!"

"Me ridiculous?" Her abhorrence was escalating rapidly, malice scorn lacing her words with a humourless laugh, "So you are not Mrs Constance Beauchamp, formerly identified as Miss Constance Chase? Date of birth 17th of May 1982. Location of birth London; you have a southern accent. Location of my birth Holby. And guess where we live? _Holby_. That's hardly a coincidence."

The social worker remained uncharacteristically silent, propped against the wall for support as her knees buckled. Her reaction was delayed; she didn't know how to respond, "That information is confidential and you are not supposed to know." She murmured feebly, hands tightly interlaced as her palms turned clammy.

"But I do know." Rita was stubborn, "All I want to know is why. Why did you dump me into a care home? And why have you kept this from me for so long? I've been under your care for the last seven years so don't say you hadn't found the right chance!"

The brunette battled internally to grasp some form of composure, flinching at the use of the term dump. She cleared her throat and flicked her curls over her shoulder before speaking, "It wasn't like that. I was young, naive and stupid, although I know that is absolutely no excuse but it's the only excuse I have." Her shoulders twitched into a futile shrug.

"What about my father? What do you know about him?"

"Not a lot really." She admitted truthfully, "We were both eighteen. You were the result of a one night stand and he left when he discovered I was pregnant. I haven't had any nature of contact with him since. I have no idea where he is now or what he is doing."

The adolescent appeared satisfied with the newly acquired knowledge about her dad and shrugged, "Oh well, men are jerks anyway!" Her focus was diverted back to the - non existence - relationship with her mother, "So what happens now? Do we get the opportunity to reconcile?"

Connie pursed her lips, expression blank, "No, most definitely not." Her cool and icy tone had been readopted with a passion. "It wouldn't work, anyway."

"Why?" The question retort came instantly, cutting and pressing, "Robyn and Max are having the chance to re-bond with their real mother after all those years!"

"This is different." The woman stated sharply, "It wouldn't be practical of functional, so there is no point. My job is demanding and I don't have time to accommodate with all the needs that come with being mother to a teen. You deserve - need - a devoted, loving family who can cater specifically for your requirements, exactly like your previous foster family."

"But-"

"No. This subject is finished." She stamped her authority harshly and paced towards the door, "You can forget that we ever even had this conversation, because, it is never going to happen, Rita," The door slammed and the blonde was left alone.

Rita exhaled a riled sigh hinted with traces of misery while she flopped back against the bed. Her contemplation on whether to roll over and resume her slumber was soon disrupted by her phone bleeping, indicating a new text message. She flicked the screen on and clicked on the new message, grumbling as she was requested to be somewhere urgently.

The teen exchanged her crumpled clothes that reeked off cheap and nasty vodka for a fresh pair of jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. Next came the challenging part of sneaking out again without Connie noticing. It wasn't too tricky, though, as the brunette was occupied with a conversation of her phone and the girl slipped out of the care home.

Approximately an hour subsequently, the head social worker received an incoming call from an unknown number, "Hello, Mrs Beauchamp speaking. May I ask who is calling?"

" _Yes, my name is Louise Tyler and I'm the receptionist as Holby City emergency department. I am calling to inform that a resident of your care home, Miss Rita Freeman, had just been admitted following being brought in by ambulance._ "

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Firstly, thank you for the reviews. This chapter has revealed who Rita's birth mother is and coming chapters will reveal her father! Sorry it's rather short, though. Will try not to keep you waiting an update too long! xx_

 _~Mini Peacelet~_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews! And to anyone who has read. Here's the next instalment :3 I'm going to apologise in advance for any errors in my medical knowledge over the coming chapters; even after watching Casualty for ages, I barely know anything_! _I hope you like this part!xx_

 _~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Smothered Shadows - Part 5

The clatter of stiletto heels and the fury ramming of mechanised doors reverberated the ambience as the brunette propelled into the ED, accompanied with chatter and the clinking of sliding lift doors and the motion of trolley movement. Connie twirled her handbag over her shoulder stylishly and stalked to the front desk whilst straightening the sleeves of her blouse.

"I'm here to see Rita Fre-"

She was interrupted with an ominous scowl as the receptionist - Louise - tilted the phone away from her mouth, "Can't you see that I'm talking? You'll have to wait a moment." The words dripped from her lips blunt and solemnly.

The scornful attitude stitched across Connie's face corresponded with the receptionist's. Bitter and acrimonious. She raked her elegant fingers through her thick, curled hair and tapped her foot impatiently. "Oh? You actually want to talk to me now?" A humourless laugh followed as she flashed her social worker card, "Mrs Beauchamp. Here to see Rita Freeman."

Louise nodded and scanned the department, "Charlie! Could you please show Mrs- uh this lady to cubicle three where Miss Freeman is, please." At that request, the woman silently paced behind the senior nurse, politely thanking him as he gestured to the correct cubicle bay.

She tugged the thin curtain back, just enough so she could enter, before jerking it back to the end to resume privacy and conceal the remainder of the emergency department. Her darks orbs were instantly lured to the teen, breath catching in the back of her throat.

Rita was unconscious. Sticky claret had dried smudged across her face, the dark blood persisting to trickle from certain lacerations and collect on the pillow case; her eyebrow and bust lip the significant sources. Bruising was beginning to shade her naturally pale complexion, a jigsaw of purple edging the circumference of her right eye. Her right arm had been restrained with a splint, evidently due to suspicions of broken bones.

Various monitors had been attached to the young blonde and an IV line inserted into her left arm that was hooked up to a drip containing saline and a dose of pain relief. A nurse was present, cleaning away the dried blood and disinfecting the cuts ready for examination.

"We gave her a small dose of sedation, she was refusing to even allow anybody near her. She should wake up soon, though." The nurse explained concisely as she closed the cut on the adolescent's eyebrow with sterile strips.

Connie nodded simply and cleared her throat, "Do _we_ have any idea what has happened to her?"

The woman fleetingly engaged eye contact with the social worker as she extracted her hands from the rubber gloves and disposed of them, "No. She was found by a by passer on the heath who called an ambulance. We're hoping that you may be able to get Rita to talk when she awakes again."

Rolling her dark eyes dramatically, the brunette scoffed, "I wouldn't count on that. She's fiery and stubborn, I'm not the person she will confide in - if anyone at all."

Both females rotated simultaneously as they perceived some shuffling. Rita was stirring from her restless slumber. The tiny blonde shuffled slightly, propping herself up on her elbows, attempting to focus her bleary vision on her surroundings. Trying to recall the events that had resulted in now.

And suddenly the teenager was clutching her chest, complaining with a mutter, as her breathing quickened and abruptly became heavier. She was soon gasping for breath, lungs starved of the sufficient oxygen they craved. Sharp, prodding pains engulfed her chest, rasping erratically for all the oxygen she could inhale.

"What's happening?!" It wasn't really a question; she demanded an explanation of why her daughter was struggling for breath and in such distress. A concerned frowned adopted her features as she flashed her attention between the girl and the nurse who blatantly ignored her queries.

The nurse dashed to the corner of the bay and yanked the curtains back, "We need a doctor in here! Hanssen it's your patient!" Subsequently to attracting the doctor's attention, she swiftly began informing him of the symptoms experienced and situation.

The male doctor grabbed a pair of sterile gloves and rushed into the cubicle immediately, "Okay, Ri-" He halted mid-sentence as he captured sight of the other lady present and instantly identified her. Hanssen was lost for words, completely stunned into utter silence. "C-connie?" A stumbled falter.

Connie switched her concentration to the doctor upon hearing her name, rich orbs expanding significantly. She recognised him. Even though it had been approaching fifteen years since the last time they had seen each other. " _Henrik Hanssen_." The name was no more than a gritted teeth mutter.

"What are you doing h-here?" He stuttered perplexedly, "I haven't seen you in..."

"Quit the formalities, Hanssen." Her tone was icy and cutting, "They can wait. The girl can hardly breath over there! Go concentrate on helping her! Please." It was a sharp instruction, and Henrik obeyed. Evidently, he recalled all those hears ago and was finally wise to comply with the request.

"Right, uhh...yes." Removing his stethoscope from where it rested around his neck, he started his examination into Rita's breathing problems after placing a mask round her face. He was pretty certain of his diagnosis already, though. Apologising in advance as she winced, Henrik could see the forming bruises of diverse shades on her ribs and confirmed that three were indeed broken.

"It's a pneumothorax." The male confirmed, "One of your ribs has punctured your left lung. I am going to insert a chest drain and release the pressure and allow any fluid to drain. It will hurt but you will soon feel much better." He continued to explain the procedure before performing it with the assistance of the nurse.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews! This is a shorter update but the next update will contain Rita. xx_

 _~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Smothered Shadows - Part 6

Connie's curled fingers hesitated, fluttering in the air momentarily, as she contemplated knocking on Hanssen's office door. She could perceive talking. Well, actually, it was just _his_ voice. A sharp tap followed subsequently, she needed to know how long it would take for Rita's x-ray results.

"Connie," He peered up from his desk as she entered and tentatively shut the door behind her, "How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting anything am I?" Hovering by the door, a moderately anxious expression had adopted the female's features as she shuffled on the spot and adjusted her jacket sleeves, "It's just I heard you talking-"

"You weren't disrupting anything." Henrik clarified with a reassuring smile. His deep eyes had locked with the social worker's. Lustful in awe. Perhaps _smitten_.

Perplexity creased the brunette's face, manner equally bewildered, "So who were you speaking to then?"

"Mabel." Mutedly, the consultant noted her puzzlement escalate as she scanned the office with a hint of awkwardness until he elaborated with a simple gesture, "My plant."

The female displayed a presence of incredulity. Had she really heard that correctly? "Right...well, I came to see how long it will be before Rita's x-ray results will be back. We have been waiting a while."

He nodded quickly and tapped at his computer, "I'll just have a look." Flicking through the screen he confirmed that they were still being processed. But he wasn't about to allow her to leave just yet. "I never had you down as the type for marriage."

She perched against the wooden unit at the side of the room, perfectly manicured fingertips curled around the edge securely, "What makes you think I'm married?" Head tilted to the side, her luscious mane of chestnut-coloured curls cascaded over one shoulder.

"Well, since you're here with presumably your daughter...I just presumed-"

" _Well_ , you judged incorrectly." Connie stated sincerely, glossy lips pursed together in apprehension as she paused fleetingly, "As a matter of fact, she _is_ my daughter. But she is also _your_ daughter, as well." With her dark orbs narrowed scrutinisingly, she impatiently waited his response.

Hanssen's face fell immediately, faltering over words that he failed to string into a logical sentence, "Wha...how?!"

"You are a doctor, Henrik. I hardly think I need to explain nor draw you a diagram." The brunette rolled her eyes dramatically at his incompetence, "We were at a party, ingested far too many alcoholic cocktails and we kissed, then one thing lead to another. She was the result of our irrational one night stand! You superciliously ran when I confined in you, never to be seen again once you had signed those papers minutes after her birth. Dropping all your responsibilities. Remember?"

"We agreed to have her adopted. She _was_ adopted. We both signed those adoption forms together." With intense concentration, he could reminiscent those very moments currently in debate.

"Yes, and she was adopted." Connie confirmed, nodding briefly, "Until she was seven. Then it didn't work out and she returned to the care system. I was and still am the head social worker at the home she lives in."

The doctor was beginning to understand, "I always thought that you intended to create your stamp in medicine. We were studying to qualify as doctors together back in university."

"I did, but I had a change of heart." Her gaze diverted towards the carpeted floor, "I'm still helping people - which is what I always had intentions of doing - just now it is targeted at a differing audience."

There was a pause, both basking the silent ambience, until Connie spoke again, "Rita recently discovered that I'm her real birth mother; well, yesterday to be precise."

"Does she know about me?"

The brunette rolled her eyes repeatedly with a sharp scoff, "Is all you men think about is yourselves? I guess some things will never change." A shake of her head, "But considering she located her real birth certificate that I would imagine that she does know your name. Whether she has made the connection between that name and you being the doctor, however, is another story. As she isn't exactly 'with it' at the minute, I'd assume not."

Hanssen nodded again - he only wanted to be prepared in advance, "Right, now to these x-ray results. They're back." He collected his tablet off the desk and clicked on the appropriate photograph. After detailed study and scrutinisation, "It's not good news I'm afraid, that's a nasty break. Rita will require an operation in order to fix the damage."


End file.
